we would drop acid

then drive to a shit-kicker club

and swing dance to every tune

take smoke breaks in the parking lot

marveling at how the mercury vapor lights

transformed the gravel and broken glass

into the immense star field beneath our boots

eating mushrooms for breakfast

everyone trekking off through the hills and meadows

collecting flowers and sticks and other precious things

that would later wilt or disappear

their magic gone

drinking Kiowa mescaline tea

then sitting outside for hours

or minutes or days perhaps

absorbed by the approaching storm

until the rain and hail drove me to shelter

Copyright Michael Douglas Scott 9/16/19